The Untold Story of Leena Klammer
by gothgirl97
Summary: "The Untold Story of Leena Klammer" takes you deeper into Leena's twisted mind, and beyond her stay at the Coleman's. How did she escape the Saarne Institute? What was her life like before she became a crazed killer? How did she wind up as "Esther the orphan"? These questions and more will be answered in this untold story of Leena's life.
1. Prologue: April 21, 1980

Prologue: April 21, 1980

You know how some people are able to have a photographic memory? How they're able to form a mental picture in their mind and return back to it at any given time as they please? Well, I've never claimed to have that ability, not by a long shot. But, I do admit that I can recall a lot of memories from my past as far back as I can remember. Granted, some memories are a whole lot better than others, and there's always some that I wish I could just forget completely. But this one memory in particular stands out among the rest as being one of the first memories I can actually vividly remember. It all started on the day of my fourth birthday. It was just like any other day in Estonia; the afternoon sun shown brightly through my small bedroom window, though I was too preoccupied to enjoy any of the day's beauty.

I held my breath, trying not to make a sound as I slowly opened my bedroom door just a crack, barely big enough to see through as I peered outside, watching and listening intensely as both my parents fought together in the kitchen; the loud shouting of their voices could be heard throughout the whole house.

My mother's words were one of the first I heard as she shouted loudly at my father in Estonian, ". . . Do you honestly think I'm going to stay here a minuet longer, only to sit back and watch as you continue to hurt our Leena, over and over again?! Because if you do, you are one sick bastard! Do you hear me?! ONE. SICK. MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD! And I'm not staying around here any longer to watch this shit! I'm DONE!"

I gasped quietly from her harsh words. What did she mean by 'I'm done'? Was my mother planning on leaving? It wasn't until that moment that I realized she was holding a large suitcase in her hand, and judging by how full that suitcase looked, I already knew I had the answer to that question. But something else also crossed my mind. Why would she accuse my father of 'hurting' me? As far as I was concerned back then, my father had never hurt me before. He loved me. He told me himself plenty of times that he did. And I loved him too. In my eyes, my father was the greatest man in the world. So why would my mother dare to accuse him of such things? He never did anything wrong.

As if on cue, my father then quickly defended himself from her, "I have never, ever hurt Leena! I've never touched a goddamn hair on that girl's head! I love Leena! And fine, LEAVE! I don't need you, bitch! Never have, never will! So go ahead. Leave! See if I care! But Leena's staying with me!"

I backed away from the door at that point; no longing wanting to eavesdrop on my parents, although their loud words could still faintly be heard, even from behind my now closed door.

I sat down on the edge of my bed as my young mind tried to process all that was happening. Just then, the yelling and fighting finally stopped. I listened as the front door of the house was slammed roughly, which was soon followed by the sound of a car starting up. I turned around, looking out my bedroom window as I watched my mother quickly drive off, never to return again.

I continued to stare out the window for a long moment, but then quickly turned around as I heard my bedroom door being opened. My eyes immediately met with my father as he stood in the doorway.

"What's wrong?" I ask him innocently, "Where did mommy go?"

My father then made his way over to my bed as he sat down beside me.

"Your mother had to go away for a little while, to take care of some things," he said, his voice gentle and smooth as he then begin gently running his fingers through my dark hair. "But don't worry. I'm not going anywhere, sweetie. I'll take care of you."

I looked down as my father placed his hand on my leg, watching as his hand slowly traveled upward towards the end of my skirt.

"I love you, Leena. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you. I love you."

"I love you too, daddy," I spoke quietly, staring straight ahead into space as I felt my father's rough hand continued to travel up my leg.

The room suddenly became much darker at that moment as the clouds then covered up the brightness of the sun from outside, as if it were a strange omen, warning me of the unknown horror that laid ahead.

My name is Leena Klammer, and this is the untold story of my life . . .


	2. Chapter 1: 12 Years Later

Chapter 1: 12 Years Later

After my mother left, it was just me and father for many years. We lived alone in our small house in Tallinn, Estonia. My father was the one who raised and took care of me for all these years, just like he promised he would.

We made love for the very first time, on that same day that mother left. Well, that's what he told me we were doing; making love. Everyone else I've known later on would've told me different; that it was rape, not love. But I never believed them. How would they know anyway?

My father loved me when no one else would. And after a few short years, I realized that I loved him too. But not the regular father/daughter love you see nowadays. No. I didn't love my father. . . I was IN love with him.

My father's name was Karl Klammer. He worked as a construction worker, mostly on the late shifts. Because of our odd relationship, I never had any boyfriends growing up, like most girls do. Sure, I liked other guys, but my father was the only man for me. I was very anti-social in school. I never had any real friends, and the little friends I did have, we never stayed friends for long. They'd either end up pissing me off in someway, or turn against me, like everyone else does.

I always the smallest in my class, so I was always picked on for my size. Don't get me wrong; I was a smart kid. I just wasn't very social, and hardly participated in anything at school. I would just keep to myself, waiting for the day to be over so I could spend more time with father.

I would anxiously wait up for him to get off of work. No matter how late it was, he didn't seem to care; he always had time for me. He even taught me how to paint and play the piano. Which were the only two things I seemed to be really good at.

But what I enjoyed most, were the times that we made love. The way he touched me, so soft and gentle; it was as if I was in heaven on earth. He managed to take away all my troubles and pain, just from his touch.

"I love you, Leena," his husky voice would whisper in my ear. Just the sound of his voice and his warm breath on my skin, made my body tingle in pleasure.

"I love you too, daddy. So much," I whispered back.

And I did truly love him; just like I knew he loved me.

He told me that all of this love making was to teach me how to become a real woman.

"It's to prepare you," he would tell me, "I'm doing this because I love you, and I want to prepare you for when you are older. One day, you'll be a wife, a mother, and a lover; what a real woman should be. Your mother was never a real woman. She was selfish and weak. But not like you, Leena. You are so much better than her. You make me so proud."

I wasn't exactly sure what he meant back then, but now that I was older, I understood completely. He wanted me to be strong. That's why he made love me everyday; not just because he loved me, but he wanted to show me what a real woman was like. That I would one day grow up to be what he wanted. A lover, a mother, and his wife. And that's what I wanted too.

I would do anything to please my father and make him happy. Although lately now, he seems to be a bit disinterested in me. We only made love once or twice a week now, as opposed to every single day, like we used to. It wasn't it until a few months later that I realized what the reason behind this was.

I was sixteen now, and I sill hadn't grown. As I said before, I was always the shortest in my class. But this was different. I was sixteen, but I was still nearly less than four feet tall, and weighed under eighty pounds. I barely had any breasts, and I hadn't even started my period yet.

It didn't make sense. All the girls at school were all already fully developed . . . Except for me. I was already in my mid teen years, but I still looked as though I were a child. And I could tell that this disappointed my father greatly. I hated it. I didn't know what was wrong with me. Why wasn't I growing? It was if the world around me was getting bigger, while I shrinking in size.

I soon brushed it off as nothing though, and acted as if I knew nothing about it. But father knew. I could tell. He looked at me differently now. He even talked to me differently. One of my greatest fears was coming true before my very eyes: Slowly but surely, my father was falling out of love with me. And it crushed me deeply knowing that. But I continued to put on a brave face and just hope for the best.

Little did I know, that this was only just the beginning of the end of our love that was slowly dying . . .


	3. Chapter 2: Hypopituitarism

Chapter 2: Hypopituitarism

"How old are you now, Leena?"

"Twenty-five," I answered quietly.

Eight years have passed now, and I still hadn't grown much. Although, a few parts of me managed to grow since I was sixteen; my breasts finally developed (somewhat) and I now had some form of womanly curves, but, that was about it. I still looked as though I were a cross between an adult and a child. Needless to say, I was desperate to know what was wrong with me. And so was father. That's why for the past few weeks now I've had countless of test and blood work done on me. And today was the day I'd finally get the results back.

I watched as the nurse, who just asked me my age, write down a few notes on her clipboard. I tried to peer over the desk, to see what she was writing; I was so goddamn nervous.

"Alright then," the nurse smiled at me, "The doctor should be in here in a few moments."

She then picked up her clipboard and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Once she left, I looked over at my father, who was sitting beside me. He didn't even look back at me. He just stared at the cream colored wall straight ahead, as if deep in thought.

I sighed and looked down. Ever since I turned sixteen, my father suddenly became disinterested in me. As I said once before, we use to make love every day, but ever since I stopped "growing", our love just seemed to stop as well. Even now, eight years later, he was still disinterested in me. Even more so than before. It was as if my father was no longer attracted me. And who could blame him? I looked like some deformed freak! I wasn't a child anymore; but I wasn't exactly an adult either. And, to be completely honest, it scared me.

Would I always look like this? Will father ever love me again? Just what the fuck was wrong with me?!

These were the exact thoughts that ran through my mind as I sat in the small exam room, waiting impatiently.

I twiddled my thumbs nervously, while I listened for any sign of the doctor; but the constant sound of the clock on the wall drowned out all the noise from behind the door.

I watched as five minuets turned into fifteen, and fifteen into thirty. The ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder as each second passed by. It was driving me fucking insane! Where was the damn doctor already?! I wanted so badly to get this thing over and done with.

At last, the door finally opened and the doctor came in.

"Hello, Leena," Dr. Pütsep greeted, shaking my hand before he sat down in front of me. "How are you today?"

"I'm alright," I lied. I was actually scared shitless; I wasn't sure how this day would turn out.

The doctor nodded as he looked over a few things in his charts.

I rolled my eyes impatiently. "Well? Do you have the results back yet or not?" I demanded.

Dr. Pütsep looked back up at me. I could tell he could see the concern in my eyes as he spoke calmly, "Yes, Leena, the results came back today," he paused for a brief moment before saying, "But I'm afraid, it's not very good news."

I gulped nervously; my heart rate increasing in anticipation.

"Just tell me what it is. What's wrong with me, doctor?" I asked urgently.

The doctor took a deep breath as he looked me in the eye.

"You have Hypopituitarism."

I stared at him blankly, confused, "What's that?"

"It's a very rare hormone disorder," he explained, "It's when the pituitary gland does not produce normal amounts of some or all of its hormones. There's no need to worry; it's not life threatening. But it does cause proportional dwarfism. Hence the reason why you have not been growing at a normal adult rate. And I'm very sorry to say this so bluntly, but you are twenty-five now Leena, and I'm afraid that this is as far as you're going to mature. At least physically anyway."

I stared at him for a long moment as I tried to process all of this information.

I couldn't believe what he was saying. I was going to be stuck this way . . . Forever?!

"D-dwarfism . . ." I whispered quietly; my lip quivering as I was almost on the verge of tears.

Dr. Pütsep nodded grimly, "But Leena, listen. It's not the end of the world, and you are not the only one with this disease, despite it being so rare. You can still live a normal, healthy lifestyle. Nothing will have to change . . ."

"Dwarfism," I repeated.

The doctor just continued, " . . . Unfortunately, there is no cure. And as for not yet starting your menstrual cycle, well, that I have no real answer to. Sometimes if there's enough stress in the house, or even sexual abuse could delay that, and sadly, damage your reproductive system."

He looked over at my father suspiciously when he said that, who was still staring straight ahead into space, obviously at a loss for words, like I was.

Now I had just found out I can no longer reproduce either. I would now never be able to become a mother; one of my greatest desires in the whole world. It was as if all my dreams were being torn and shattered right in front of me in this very doctor's office.

" . . . Dwarfism . . . " I repeated once more.

"Leena, I know-" the doctor began to say, but I quickly cut him off as I stood right up from my seat.

"DWARFISM?!" I cried out. Tears streaming down my face as I screamed, "YOU MEAN TO TELL ME I'M GOING TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE LIKE THIS?! AS A CHILD?! AS A FUCKING CHILD!"

"Leena, please," Pütsep begged, "Take a deep breath and just calm down."

"FUCK YOU!" I shouted, "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT!"

I completely broke down at that moment, sobbing heavily as I fell back down in my seat.

"Th-this can't be happening to me . . . It just can't! God, n-no!" I whispered between my violently sobs.

Why me? Why was I cursed with this fucking disease? A disease I didn't even know existed, until now. My life was over, I just knew it!

I will always be this way. I will never "grow up", and I will never be a mother. Chills went down my spine as the realization hit me; I was a grown woman, trapped inside the body of a child . . . Forever!

How would my father ever love me now? . . .


	4. Chapter 3: Not a Real Woman

Chapter 3: Not a Real Woman

The car ride home was a long and quiet one. Father didn't even speak a word to me as we left the doctor's office. Even when we finally made it home, he still didn't say anything. He just acted as if I weren't even there; and it was breaking my heart. I knew he was upset about what the doctor said; so was I. Which is why I needed his loving comfort more than ever.

"Dad?" I asked him quietly, but he still just ignored me. "Dad, please . . . say something."

I looked up at him with pleading eyes, hoping desperately that he'd help take this new pain away.

"What do you want me to say, Leena?!" he asked harshly as he stared down at me. His eyes were cold and empty; not at all inviting like they normally were.

I took a deep breath; unsure of what to say. For the first time in my life, I was actually scared of my father. He had never acted this way towards me before, and it frightened me.

"I-I don't know," I began, "Just, please . . . just tell me that you still love me. That's all I want to hear," I paused for a brief moment as I looked up at him; searching for any signs of the caring father that I once knew; but it was like he was nowhere to be found. Tears began to swell in my eyes as I begged, ". . . Don't you love me anymore, daddy?"

My father continued to just stare at me for a long moment, not saying anything. I breathed deeply as I waited for what felt like an eternity. It was like I was staring at a ticking time bomb; just waiting for it to explode. And then, to my surprise, that's exactly what happened. Without warning, my father backhanded me hard across the face. It all happened so face, I didn't even know what hit me, until I found myself laying on the ground, with my father towering over me. His face contorted in anger.

"STOP LIVING IN A FUCKING FATASY WORLD, LEENA!" he shouted, "JUST LOOK AT YOURSELF!"

He then grabbed me by my arm; pulling me up roughly as he practically dragged me over to a mirror hanging on the wall. I tried to escape from his tight grasp, but it was no use. I had no choice but to cry as he held onto me tightly, forcing me to look at my reflection in the mirror.

"THIS IS HOW YOU'RE ALWAYS GOING TO LOOK LIKE TO PEOPLE NOW!" my father continued, "A CHILD! THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE! DO YOU HONESTLY THINK ANYONE IS GOING TO LOVE YOU THIS WAY? HUH? DO YOU?!"

Tears continued to stream down my face as I tried to look away. But he just slapped me again, and pushed me to the ground.

"D-daddy, please . . . Stop!" I begged.

"No one is going to love you now, Leena! Remember that!" He told me harshly, before he turned and walked away outside, slamming the front door behind him.

Once I knew for sure that he was gone, I slowly sat up from off the floor. I didn't do anything for a long while; I just sat there, propped up against the wall, still in shock. Until finally, I just broke down crying again. Hugging my knees to my chest, I just cried and cried and cried some more. I tried to block out all the hateful words he just told me. I wanted to believe that it wasn't true. But deep down, I knew I was only kidding myself. If my own father didn't love me anymore, who else would? No one, that's who.

What kind of my man would ever love a woman who can't even have children? Who would love someone that was basically still a child themself? Those were my exact thoughts as I sat there, crying my eyes out. I tried hard not to believe it, although I already knew the horrified truth.

In one day, everything about my life just came crumbling down. My hopes, my dreams, my very soul; shattered beyond repair.

I continued to sit there, crying all through the night. Feeling lost and completely alone in the world . . .

* * *

After six long months, I eventually gave up on the hope that my father still loved me. His personality towards me changed completely since that day. He would just beat me, use me, and rape me, reminding me every day how unwanted I was. It wasn't love anymore for us. No. This was real abuse. Mentally, physically, verbally. Every time he was around me, he always had some way of making me feel even worse about myself than before. But, I couldn't blame him. Even though it pained and angered me, I knew the things he said were true. He wouldn't of said them if they weren't. And sadly, even though I knew father no longer loved me anymore, I still loved him. Which is why I continued to stay with him for so long. I took his lashings and beatings, and managed to hold my head up high. Still hoping that one day this would pass, and things will be back to the way they use to be. It wasn't until those six months later that I was finally pushed over the edge . . .

I remember it as if it were just yesterday. It all started one night in mid-October. For the past several weeks, I had noticed that father spent a lot of his nights out and about. I wasn't sure why this was; I just assumed maybe he was hanging out at a local bar or something. It wasn't until he came home one night that I realized what the reason behind this was.

I was up in my room painting, minding my own business. It had to have been around eleven o'clock at night when I finally heard the front door open, meaning my father was back from one of his other night outs. But this time, it was different. I heard another voice with him. A woman's voice.

I slowly walked downstairs to see who this strange woman was. They were laughing and talking in the doorway, unaware that I was eavesdropping on them. I watched as father invited the woman inside. She looked trashy, like a hooker or something. She had dirty blonde hair, and very revealing clothes. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. How could father even stand to be near her? I had hoped he had much better taste than that trash! They sat on the living room couch; drinking and talking. Apparently, they already knew each other quite well. Was this why father's been out all hours of the night? To see her?

Jealousy suddenly rose up from inside me. He was cheating on me behind my back, this whole time?! My eyes then widen with pure rage as they began to kiss. How dare my father do this to me! This hurt worse than all his beatings or shouting. To watch him loving up to a woman he barely knew, than to me, his own daughter! It was the worst feeling in the world. That should've been me kissing him again! Not her! Me!

I finally stepped out from the shadows slowly, glaring at them suspiciously.

"Who's she?" I demanded.

They both jumped away from each other; startled by my presents.

"L-Leena," my father looked at me, surprised. "What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

I just ignored his question as I asked again, "Who is she?"

My father looked over at the woman, then back at me.

"Leena, this is Irene."

Irene smiled at me, "Nice to meet you, sweetie."

I glared at her, before looking over at my father again.

"What is she doing here?" I asked, crossing my arms, "Are you . . . seeing her?"

My father nodded, "Yes. We've been seeing each other for a few weeks now."

I shook my head. I just couldn't believe this.

"How . . . how could you? After all we've been through, you're just going to throw our love away? For this . . . this, whore?!"

My father stood up angrily, "Don't you ever call her that again! Do you hear me?! And just get it through your thick head, Leena! I don't love you! How could I? You're not even a real woman! And you never will be!"

I gasped from his harsh words. My eyes filled up with tears as I quickly ran back upstairs; not saying another word. I didn't want to even look at my father for a minute longer.

I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me, letting out the loudest scream as I tried to release all my anger. I was so hurt. I didn't know what to do. I had known for a while now that my father didn't love me, but after actually hearing him say it, it practically killed me inside.

I sat down in front of my dresser mirror; Tears running down my face as I glared at my hideous reflection. My eyes were red and puffy from crying, and my face was covered in aging wrinkles, despite the fact that I was only twenty-five years old. It was strange. I looked childlike, but at the same time, I still had the features of a grown adult. It was like a Halloween mask that can never be taken off. He was right. I wasn't a real woman.

"You are ugly, and pathetic!" I growled at myself, "No one will ever love you!"

I cried out as I stood up. My small fists collided with the mirror. I ignored the pain as the glass shattered onto my hand and landed on the floor. I then fell down onto my knees as I sobbed some more. I cried until there was nothing left in me.

I looked around my room, noticing how dark and empty it looked; just like how I felt on the inside. I then glanced down at one of the broken pieces of glass that was lying beside me. I picked it up carefully; examining its sharp edges. I smiled evilly as I imagined what it would feel like to drive this piece of glass straight through Irene's chest. Oh, how I hated that fucking whore! How dare she steal my father away from me!

Then that's when it hit me. If she can steal my father away from me, then I'll just steal her away from my father. . . Permanently! I knew it was all up to me. If father didn't want me anymore, fine! But I was going to make sure he couldn't have anybody else.

I gripped the piece of glass tightly in my hand; the adrenaline coursing through body blocked out the pain as the glass cut my skin.

Tomorrow, they were both going to die at my mercy . . .


	5. Chapter 4: My First Kill

Chapter 4: My First Kill

The next day couldn't come soon enough. My father let that whore Irene stay the night. I could hear them fucking each other in the next room; which only intensified my anger even more.

Morning finally came. However, I knew I couldn't take any actions right away. No, I knew had to wait just a little bit longer; at least long enough for me to be left alone with Irene. That's right. Irene first. Then I would deal with my father.

I honestly had no plan going into this. This would be my first kill after all. For a moment, but just for a moment, I almost thought of backing out of it. Could I really kill my father? The only man that's ever loved me my whole life? And what if I get caught? But, at that moment, I didn't care about all of that. All I could feel was rage and hatred for the two of them. They deserved to die! Especially Irene! I knew if I was really going to go through with this, it had to be now . . .

It was around eight at night when father finally left for work. Irene stayed here all day, doing nothing but sitting on her ass and fucking my father. That bitch! As soon as father left (without even saying goodbye to me) I snuck downstairs as quietly as possible. Irene was sitting on the living room couch, watching TV; completely oblivious to my actions. Ever so softly, I tiptoed into the kitchen; frantically searching around for some sort of weapon. My eyes lit up and an evil smirk crossed my face as I finally found a large knife. My fingers lightly caressed its sharp blade. This would be perfect!

I hid the knife behind my back, gripping it tightly in my hand as I started towards the living room, eyeing the back of that slut's head. Oh, how I despised her! How dare she sit here in my house, as if it were hers! How dare she try to steal my father away from me! How dare she try to ruin my life!

"Mind if I join you?"

Irene jumped suddenly; surprised from hearing my voice.

"L-Leena!" she gasped, quickly turning her head towards me.

I pretended to act sympathetic. "Aww. Did I scare you?"

She chuckled nervously, "Just a little. I didn't even hear you walk downstairs."

I just shrugged my shoulders, "Oh. Sorry about that."

"It's fine."

She then turned her attention back towards the television. I sat down beside her slowly; still careful to hide my knife. My eyes scanned her up and down; glaring at her.

"So, Irene, is it?" I asked to finally break the eerie silence between us. "Answer me this, because I'm just curious to know. How much has my father been paying you to fuck him?"

She gave me a bewildered look; obviously taken back by my question.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, you know, just considering by the way you dress, I assume you're a prostitute, and a pretty bad one at that. Don't sluts like you usually collect their money and leave? My father must be paying you a lot of money to stick around this long . . . Although, I'm not sure why. Seeing as he has me around to fuck for free."

I smirked evilly as her face grew red in embarrassment.

"Leena, I-I . . . I really have no idea what you're talking about," she stuttered.

I nodded, keeping a smug expression on my face, "Oh, but I think you do. Don't even try to act like you don't know. You're either just a prostitute, or slut that's trying to steal my father away from me. But let me tell you something Irene . . ."

I glared angrily as I then slowly leaned closer to her. My face up close to hers, just inches away, ". . . he's MINE! Did you honestly think I was just going to sit back and let you take him from me? Well, think again, bitch!"

Irene's eyes grew wide with fear as I slowly held up my knife.

"L-Leena, no! Please! Y-you got it all wrong! Just, j-just please . . . Don't hurt me!" She begged pathetically. I could see the fear on her face; her eyes pleading with me to spare her life. Her very fate was in my hands now . . . And I loved it!

I grinned wickedly at her fear as I gently traced the tip of my knife down her face. She was whimpering now; crying like an idiot.

"P-please Leena! I promise! I'll leave! I'll leave right now if you want. Please don't kill me!"

I leaned away from her slowly, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Hmmm," I tilted my head to the side as I thought for a moment, and then smiled, "Alright, Irene. I'll let you leave . . . But . . . Wait . . ." My smile disappeared as I glared harshly at her again, "How can I be sure that you won't come back?"

She shook her head quickly, "I swear. I-I won't come back. I promise!"

"But how can I be sure?" I asked again.

Irene didn't say anything; she whimpered and cried, her whole body now trembling with fear.

My face lit up with excitement as I pretended to have an idea. "Ah ha! Now I know! I'll just send you back to hell where you belong, that way I'll know for sure you won't return. How does that sound?"

"W-wait! What?! No . . . "

But before she could say anything else, I plunged my knife deep into Irene's throat. Her blood flowed out onto my hands as I twisted the blade sharply inside her. Her screams soon became nothing but small chokes and gurgles as she drowned in her own blood. I glared hatefully as the last signs of life slowly seeped out of her.

"That was for stealing my father . . . YOU FILTHY SLUT!"

And with that, I ripped the knife violently out of her flesh. Blood gushed from the large hole in her throat as Irene's now lifeless body fell back against the couch; dead.

I grinned triumphantly as I slowly stood up. I could feel the pure adrenaline coursing its way through my body. I couldn't believe what I had just done; it all seemed so surreal. But it also felt so good being able to get rid of that bitch once and for all! In the end, I knew I had done the right thing. Nobody was going to have my father, except for me!

Wiping the blood from my face with my hand, I stared down at Irene's body. Her lifeless green eyes stared right back at me. That's when I came up with another idea.

I grabbed ahold of her feet, dragging her from the couch. With some effort, I managed to drag her body all the way across the room; propping her up in a sitting position against the wall. Her head hung limply to side, exposing the ghastly wound I had made in her neck. Perfect. I then ran upstairs to room. Not even a split second later, I returned, carrying a small paintbrush in my hand. Carefully, I kneeled down beside Irene's body, sticking the tip of the brush inside the open wound in her throat, just enough for her blood to soak the bristles on the end of the brush. Then, very artistically, as if I were creating one of my drawings, I began painting a message on the wall, just for my father to see. An evil smile formed on my face as I painted. This would be just perfect . . .

* * *

It wasn't until a few hours later that my father finally returned home from work. I sat in the shadows, clenching my knife in my hand, staying completely silent as I watched the front door slowly open.

My father stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he took off his jacket, looking around the dark house; obviously searching for Irene.

I watched as he walked in a little further, expecting to see her, sitting on the couch, but all he saw was a large blood stain instead. I could see the fear in his eyes as he look down, noticing the trail of blood that was leading towards the other side of the room.

"What the hell . . . Irene?! Leena!" He called. But I just continued to stay silent; watching his every move.

He fumbled around in the dark for a bit, searching frantically for the light switch. Once he finally found it, he hurriedly flipped it on, revealing the true extent of the bloody scene.

His eyes widen in horror as he came face to face with the little surprise I left for him: Irene was still in the same position I left her in. Her mouth was gaped wide open, and blood soaked her body. My father quickly shielded his nose and mouth; revolted by the sight and stench of her corpse. That's when he finally looked up at the living room wall; taking notice of the message I had painted in her blood:

_'Do you love me now, daddy?'_

Before he even had I chance to react, I sprang from my hiding place, screaming loudly in anger as I charged right at him, my knife raised up high above my head. He turned around fast, but not fast enough as I pushed him to the ground, climbing on top of him. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with fear and confusion as I glared down at him.

"Do you love me now, daddy? Huh? DO YOU?!" I yelled; my teeth clenched together in anger.

I didn't even give him time to answer as I drove the knife deep into my father's chest. He screamed and cried out in pain, trying his best to push me off him, but I just pinned him down. I was so full of rage; nothing could stop me now! I stabbed him again . . . And again . . . And again. The blade with through him as if he were nothing but warm butter. My father's blood splattered over my face as I carried on stabbing him, until his body became completely limp under me, lying in a pool of his own blood.

I stood up slowly, still holding the knife in my hand as I glared at the body of my dead father. I knew he deserved this for what he did to me. I couldn't even explain how great it felt to kill that cheating bastard. He was the one who brought this upon himself, not me! But if this was really the right thing to do, then why did I suddenly feel so . . . Guilty?

Then that's when I broke down. Dropping my knife by my side, I collapsed to my knees onto to the floor. My eyes burned with tears as I cried out. The realization finally hit me; I had murdered my own father. The only man I ever loved. The only man I wanted to be with. And now he was gone . . . Forever!

What have I done?!

"I'm so sorry, daddy . . . I'm so sorry!" I cried, leaning over my father's body.

I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek; my tears landing onto his face as I continued to cry for the longest time.

Then just as soon as it had begun, I immediately stopped crying as I shot right back up. Looking over at the now two dead bodies, I knew I had to get out of here, and fast!

I rushed over to the kitchen sink, desperately trying to wash the blood off my knife and hands. I then grabbed a small bag, quickly packing some of my clothes and anything else I might need.

Right before I headed out the door though, I picked up a small picture of my father. I stared down at it for the longest time, running my fingers over it, slowly tracing the image of his smiling face. I sighed sadly, knowing that I still felt love for him, even after all he did to me. I held the picture up to my lips, kissing it gently, before placing this one last memory of my father into my back pocket.

This was it, I knew. What was done was done.

Without even looking back, I high tailed it out of the house. Going to who knows where as I ran away from the crime scene . . .


	6. Chapter 5: Caught

Chapter 5: Caught

After I killed my father and his girlfriend Irene, I was living on my own for the longest time. Of course, in order to hopefully avoid the authorities, I was constantly on the move; never staying in one place for too long. I was basically just living on the streets, or old hotels, any place I could find really. I soon made a living working as a prostitute in Estonia. Mostly catering to wealthy pedophiles, as I would usually dress up as a child to lure men to sleep with me.

To this day, I still find it kind of ironic how I had accused that bitch Irene of being nothing but a filthy whore, when later on, I became just that. But, I quickly learned the hard way that selling my body wasn't as easy or as fun as I thought it would be.

Countless of times I was either raped, beaten, or forced to do things against my will. And half the time I wouldn't even get paid. But despite these things, I continued on with my work, as sex was about the only thing I seemed to be good at when it came to making money. And with my childlike appearance, it didn't take long to have pedophiles flock to me. But of course, stupid me would always tend to break one of the number one rules for prostitution: never get attached to your clients.

I've been told numerous times that the reason why I resorted to prostitution is so I could somehow recreate the love I once had with my father. Perhaps that's true, seeing as how nearly every client I became attached to would always refuse me in the end, just like my father did. And just like when my father rejected my love, I reacted violently towards them as well; killing my clients any way I could, while keeping a small picture of them, as sort of a trophy for myself, for killing those innocent men.

Eventually, after five murders (seven including my father and Irene) I became the most wanted serial killer in Estonia. It's been six months since I murdered my father. I was now twenty-six years of age, still making a decent amount of money as a prostitute. My life wasn't exactly perfect, but I managed to avoid getting caught for those six months. Although, I always knew in the back of my mind that my luck would soon run out. But that still didn't help the fact when that dreadful day actually came . . .

It started out as any other normal day of course. I was on my way to a new client's house. It wasn't like I never did this before. It was just my normal routine; get in, do what I need to do, get my money, and get out. So had no reason to be suspicious this time around.

His name was Jaak Mägi. He was a very tall, handsome man; if things hadn't of turned out so badly, I probably would've kept servicing him. He wasn't exactly the richest man in Estonia, but judging by the look of his nice house, I could tell he made decent money.

"So, I expect 200 Kroons. Nothing more, and especially, nothing less!" I strictly informed him.

Jaak smirked as he lead me into his bedroom in the back.

"You drive a hard bargain, Leena," he said, "But let's just see how well you do first before I pay you."

I rolled my eyes when he wasn't looking, while stepping further into his small room.

"Well, let's get started I guess. Shall we?" I asked, making my way over to his bed.

"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast. Show me what you have to offer."

"What?"

"Take off your clothes."

I looked at him questionably. This wasn't really a normal demand clients would ask of me; they usually would want me to keep most of my clothes on, as it helped make me appear more childlike. But I knew that my job was to first and foremost please the clients, no matter what they asked. So I followed through with his wishes.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, eyeing me as I slowly began to strip for him, giving him a little show as I danced seductively. I spun around, my back facing him as I slowly removed my coat. I was just about to take off my dress when he suddenly demanded another action.

"Put your hands up."

"Excuse me?"

"Now!"

I turned around fast, coming face to face with a gun.

"What the hell?!" I asked, confused.

He continued to aim the weapon at me, glaring sternly.

"Leena Klammer, you're under arrest. Freeze, and put your hands up where I can see them!"

I just stood there for what seemed like an eternity, completely in shock.

How could I be so fucking stupid?! I should've known he was a cop! It was all so clear now. And now I've fallen right into his goddam trap!

SHIT! FUCK, FUCK!

There you go Leena, always screwing things up as usual!

I knew it was over. I was caught! Done for! But . . . Maybe not yet . . .

I took a risky move and grabbed the gun out of his hand, striking him in the side of the head with the handle. Not hard enough to knock him out unfortunately, but enough to make him fall to the floor in a daze. But right now, killing him didn't matter to me. I just knew I had to get the fuck out of there.

I dashed out of the room, carrying the loaded gun in my hand. I saw the front door ahead of me and made a run for it. But as soon as I stepped outside the house, that's when the realization came that it was really over.

Police sirens blared as several cop cars surrounded me. They each got out of their cars, cautiously aiming their guns at me. There was no escape for me now. I was truly trapped.

Reluctantly, I did as they told me and put down my weapon, holding both of my hands up in plain sight.

One of the cops approached me, pulling my hands behind my back and quickly slapping on the handcuffs.

"Leena Klammer, you are under arrest for illegal prostitution and multiple counts of first degree murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law . . . "

I glared angrily at all of them as they continued to read me my rights. I knew I couldn't escape now. All the murders, all the crimes, finally had caught up with me . . . I just didn't think it would be this soon.

As they placed me in the back of one of the police cars, I just sat there in silent. I was angry at all of them. But mostly at myself, for letting it happen.

How could you be so stupid, Leena?! HOW COULD YOU BE SO FUCKING STUPID?! I cursed at myself silently.

But being caught was only just the beginning of it. I was soon about to realize that there was a much worser fate that awaited me; even worse than prison. And it started with two words:

Saarne Institute . . .


End file.
